the yellow brick road
by invisibly inked
Summary: no, see, 'cause Jackson actually doesn't know shit, Stiles is brilliant and road trips are fucking magical — scott, stiles, isaac, jackson, bro!fic
1. here's looking at you kid

**title: the yellow brick road**

**summary: no, see, 'cause Jackson actually doesn't know shit, Stiles is brilliant and road trips are fucking magical — bro!fic**

**notes: i have no reason for writing this except my own entertainment. Also, all the cool kids are doing it**

* * *

**1. — here's looking at you kid**

* * *

It was the middle of summer vacation and Scott was being really pathetic and whiny and heartbroken and all kicked-puppy-like because Allison had moved away to Pennsylvania. He was lying on his bed, feet hanging over the edge with his headphones in his ears. Probably listening to something really sappy. Stiles hoped it wasn't Taylor Swift, which was, as everyone knew, the point of no return.

All in all, it was really bringing down Stiles hyped-up-hell-yeah-it's-summer-bitch mood.

He didn't even really understand it, Allison wasn't _that_ hot (except yeah, she was actually totally bammin' slammin' bootylicious , 10/10, congrats Scott).

But still.

Bringing down his mood.

Stiles, deciding that enough was enough, snatched the headphones out of Scott's ears. The boy didn't even move. Incredible.

"_Dude_," Stiles said, "This is the summer before our senior year. No alpha pack to worry about, no mythical creatures trying to kill us every other weekend—Scott we are supposed to be having the time of our lives."

Scott sat up. It was weird talking to Stiles from this position.

"But _Allison,_" Scott whined.

"Left two weeks ago," Stiles finished.

"Really? It feels like months." Scott stared off into the distance wistfully. Stiles seriously considered slapping him out of it. It would be so _easy_.

But then he got an idea (a truly genius idea because he was Stiles Motherfuckin' _Stilinski_)

"Dude, let's go see Allison."

"You mean like a road trip?"

"Did someone say road trip?" Isaac said, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"What the_ fu_—"

"I wanna go."

Scott frowned. "You can't. Who's gonna look after my mom?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Your mother is a very capable woman. She'll be fine."

"Who'll be fine?" Scott's mother asked, passing by the hall, hastily putting in an earring as she got ready to go to work. Scott sighed.

"Stiles and Isaac want to go visit Allison via road trip," Scott explained.

"Oh. That's good. You haven't seen her in a long time right? Maybe this trip will be good for you," Melissa said.

Scott blinked and sprang up from his bed, walking towards his mother. "What—wait, Mom, are you saying you'll let me go?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. You guys are going to be seniors, close to college bound." She put a hand on Scott's shoulder. "I trust you. And I know you can take care of yourself."

"But who's gonna take care of _you_?" he asked and Melissa smiled.

"I'm a big girl Scott. I can take care of myself. And besides," she said, "If anything happens I've got Sheriff Stilinski around." Stiles blanched. Scott didn't even want to_ know_ what that could have meant. She kissed his cheek.

"I'll see you later. Bye boys," she said and left. Stiles and Scott looked at each other.

"Do you think—?"

"Ew, no. No I do not."

"Who the fuck cares," Isaac interrupted, "we're going on a _road trip._" He whooped loudly then proceeded to high five Stiles.

Scott, for some reason, was very worried.

* * *

**notes: la la la~**


	2. you can't sit with us

**2. — you can't sit with us**

* * *

Scott threw his bag in the trunk of Stiles' Jeep and rubbed at his eyes, yawning. Four in the morning was an _unholy_ hour. Especially during summer. No one should be up at this time ever actually.

"What the hell's taking Isaac so long?" Stiles asked. Scott shrugged.

"I don't know, he should be coming down soon—"

"I CALL SHOTGUUUUUN," Isaac yelled running out of the house, grinning. He'd _always_ wanted to say that.

Stiles and Scott gave him a look and put a finger to their lips in the universal gesture of '_shhh_.' Seriously, was he trying to wake up the whole neighborhood?

"My bad," he said and put his own duffel bag into the trunk. He slammed it shut and clapped his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road boys."

"Hell yeah!" Stiles exclaimed, running over to the driver's side and even Scott grinned, feeling better about this whole thing. In a couple days he'd be able to see _Allison_.

But then all of that was ruined.

"I heard you losers were going on a road trip."

"What the _fu_—"

"I want in," Jackson said. There was a backpack slung over his shoulder and a shit-eating smirk on his face.

"Who even _told you_?" Stiles looked at Scott who only shrugged in a "wasn't me" manner. Isaac looked very guilty.

"I..._might_ have let it slip into conversation yesterday that we were going to visit Allison," he confessed.

"_Isaac_!" Scott and Stiles both exclaimed.

"You know, you can't really blame me. Jackson's a sneaky bastard." No one denied this.

Stiles sighed and—well, you know what? He wasn't even mad anymore because maybe Jackson could be useful. As in, Jackson's _money_ could be really useful (gas, food—why didn't they invite him _before_?)

"Ugh. We're taking Stilinski's ugly ass Jeep?"

Oh. Right.

"You," Stiles said, pointing, "You are sitting in the trunk."


	3. hit the road

**3. — hit the road**

* * *

Jackson sat in the backseat, arms crossed, and a perpetual scowl on his face. He hated everything. But mostly Stiles' shitty Jeep—and no, fuck whatever Stilinski said, his car was a piece of crap and it was a wonder that it hadn't even broken down yet or something in the whole two hours they'd been on the road.

For one thing, it was ugly and clunky and nothing at all like his _precious_, sleek and beautiful porsche.

Also, his seatbelt, and_ only_ his, was a tricky little thing (as in it didn't work) and kept doing that thing where it kept locking whenever he tried to loosen it up a bit and practically _strangled_ him whenever Stilinski would suddenly stop at a red light and the car would jerk forward.

Jackson was at least 98% sure that the little fucker was doing it on purpose (he looked him in the eye through the rearview mirror and _smirked_ and Jackson—yeah he was gonna kick his ass when they got out of the car).

"What is this _crap_ we're listening to," Jackson sneered. Stiles' glared from the driver's seat.

"Um, excuse you, Selena Gomez is a_ queen._"

"You know Jackson, all you've done since we left is complain," Scott said, "Why'd you even want to come in the first place?"

"Yeah, because I sure as _hell_ don't remember inviting you," Stiles said.

"Weren't you supposed to be spending time with Lydia or something?" Isaac added.

"Oh yeah," Stiles said, remembering, "Doing that whole bonding thing. Trying to start over as friends? She sounded like she was looking forward to it." Stiles ignored the 'how did you know all of that' looks they gave him. Lydia told him things. They were practically best friends now. _Serious_ progress since the beginning of like, _elementary school_, if you asked Stiles.

Jackson narrowed his eyes at them all. "It's none of your business dweebs." There was a collective rolling of the eyes from the other three passengers. Jackson swore he hated them all.

And this car. God, he hated this car.

"Someone change the fucking song before I kill someone."

Isaac snorted in amusement. "Like you could."

Jackson flipped him off and Scott sighed, exasperated. Seriously, he wasn't even gonna _try_ to mediate.

"Alright, alright," Stiles said, "Since _her highness_ is about to have a bitch fit—"

"Fuck you—"

"Anyone got any song requests—no, Jackson fuck off."

He muttered a string of expletives under his breath and Stiles pretended not to hear him. Scott closed his eyes, resting his head against his seat. He wasn't gonna be part of this (but he wasn't gonna stop it either because that took too much effort and seriously he only wanted to see Allison).

In the passenger's seat Isaac smirked. "I vote we just turn up the music."

Stiles grinned, his hand already reaching for the volume knob. "Excellent idea."

Jackson glared at the both of them. If looks could kill. "I hate the both of you," he said slowly.

Isaac and Stiles elected to ignore him (again) and instead sang along to _Come and Get It_ loudly and obnoxiously.

Jackson decided right then and there that as soon as he got out of the car he was going to kick _both_ their asses.

* * *

**endnotes: i swear to god i'm gonna finish this. even if it takes months.**


	4. would you like fries with that?

**notes: **this was very loosely based on a tumblr text post i saw that said something like "don't ever associate with people who think they're too good for mcdonald's." that is very good life advice.

* * *

**4. —would you like fries with that?**

Stiles rubbed at his eyes, tiredly. It felt like he'd been driving for _days_ but it'd really only been—he checked his cellphone—twelve hours. God, twelve hours on the road. And with _Jackson_ in the car. And no one was dead or anything. Amazing.

He deserved a medal or trophy or—or a a giant vanilla sundae, with like 3 feet of whipped cream and chocolate syrup and a cherry on top—but not those bright red maraschino cherries those were nasty as shit okay but maybe one of those dark cherries because those were actually pretty good and—

He was really hungry right now. An upcoming sign informed him of a McDonald's up ahead in the next turnoff. They probably didn't have a giant vanilla sundae but shit, he was not gonna be picky. When the turnoff came up he went into it, finding the McDonald's quickly and found a spot in the parking lot where he, you know, parked.

Stiles glanced at the rest of the boys. All sleeping. So obviously the only thing to do was to blare the horn really loudly and wake them up. Which he definitely did.

_"Mother—"_

_"What the shit—"_

_"STILINSKI—"_

Stiles grinned at all of them. "GOOD MORNING STARSHINE..._sss_? Starshines? Yeah."

They stared at him.

"Stiles," Isaac said, rubbing at his eyes, "What?".

"It's lunch time!"  
**.**

**.**

Somehow Jackson ended up on the line ordering for everyone (he didn't sign up for this, did he _look_ like a frickin' waiter? no.) and at a _McDonald's_ no less. He crossed his arms and scowled. He definitely would not be eating here. Not only was the food terrible but the entirety of the restaurant was horrid.

And _fattening_.

Jackson moved up, finally (_finally_—why did so many people come to this shitty restaurant) reaching the register. He squinted up at the menu.

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" the cashier said. Jackson glanced over at her, boredly.

She let out a squeak when his eyes met hers, straightened up and smiled charmingly, batting her eyelashes.

Jackson smirked.  
**.**

**.**

"Did you get my food?" Stiles asked immediately when Jackson arrived back at the car.

"No," he said, settling into the backseat, "But I _did_ get the cute little cashier's phone number." He smirked and waved a napkin with a phone number scrawled on it, remembering the _adorable_ way she blushed (adorable as she may have been, Jackson thought and crumpled up the napkin and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans, she wasn't really his type).

Stiles stared at him for a moment. Jackson rolled his eyes and then Stiles got out of the car. Jackson looked at Scott who only shrugged. Isaac simply sat back to watch how things would play out (he had a feeling that he was going to be very amused in a short amount of time. Honestly, there was never a dull moment with Stiles around).

The door on Jackson's side opened up to reveal a VERY ANGRY STILES. He pulled Jackson out of the car with great force.

"JACKSON YOU _ASSHOLE_ GO GET ME MY FUCKING BIG MAC," he screamed and pushed him in the direction of the fast food place. Stiles didn't see him roll his eyes but he _did _see the middle finger raised in the air as Jackson walked. Stiles resisted the urge to stick his tongue out in a childish manner (because what would be the point if Jackson couldn't _see it_?).

"Oh, dude," Isaac said, sticking his head out the window, "Tell him to get chicken nuggets too."

Stiles nodded once.

"AND GET ISAAC HIS CHICKEN NUGGETS," he yelled after him and then added as an afterthought, "IF THEY AREN'T 10 PIECE DON'T EVEN BOTHER COMING BACK."

Isaac stuck his hand out the window and Stiles promptly high-fived him.


End file.
